


Black Velvet

by AI07



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Game), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types, mortal kombat x
Genre: Alannah Myles - Black Velvet, And A Bit Of Humour, Cowboy's Got Some Moves, Dirty Dancing, Drama, Erron Got His Bonus And Is Gonna Spend It, Jin Regrets Everything, Jin's Gonna Be Teased For Days, M/M, Male Slash, Respect It, Romance, So A Shaolin Monk And A Cowboy Walk Into A Bar, Undercover Flirting, just a little bit, or does he?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AI07/pseuds/AI07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>""I don't drink alcohol."</p><p>Erron Black lifted an amused eyebrow. "Odd, considering that I found you here."</p><p>"I don't drink at all, certainly not with the likes of you," Jin said firmly now, breaking free of Erron's hold.</p><p>"I suppose I will have to convert you," the gun-slinger murmured."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bittersweet Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the MK franchise - that belongs to Ed Boon, John Tobias and Netherrealm Studios. The song "Black Velvet" belongs to Alannah Myles. Hope you enjoy! :)

Kung Jin had no idea how he ended up in the bar that night.

Personally, the young Shaolin monk blamed it on Cassie Cage for introducing him to the establishment in the first place. The blonde-haired sergeant had dragged him, Takeda and Jacqui to that place a week after her father put together their team, and it was the first place where she had dragged them (again), along with their friends and mentors, to celebrate their victory over Shinnok. In both instances, it seemed that all had forgotten the fact that Jin was prohibited by his order to consume alcohol. Still, everyone was too ripped to the giddy tits at that point to notice him stealing a sip of red rice wine from a clearly inebriated Johnny Cage's glass and a generous mouthful of beer from Jax Briggs's cup.

_It's not like I hadn't tasted alcohol before. Dad still won't forgive me for stealing that bottle of vermouth from his liquor cabinet years ago. I didn't even finish it, it tasted helluva awful, so I don't know why he was mad – then again, he wasn't impressed when he found out that I threw half the stuff down the bathroom sink._

In all honesty, Jin did not think much of the joint in which he was now sitting for the third time. With its drab brown décor, the dark maroon-coloured walls, the various bottles of liquor stacked almost higgledy-piggledy on the high brown shelf behind the rough, wood-topped counter over which he was leaning, the old-fashioned yet garish jukebox sitting in the corner by the door, the poor lighting, and the red-faced punters who eyed the Shaolin monk with suspicion, it was not exactly much of a wholesome bar. If anything, it reminded him of one of those Western saloons so often fictionalised in movies and books.

 _I_ _t's like that saloon in Johnny Cage's movie, "Brokenose Mountain" – ugh, w_ _hy did Cassie_ _have to_ _make me watch that_ _junk_ _?_ Jin thought with a grimace. _A_ s _tupid-ass movie_ _with a stupid-ass cliché saloon._

 _So then, how did_ I _end up back here in_ this _stupid-ass dump?_

_This is the kind of joint I'd expect to find –_

Jin growled under his breath, stopping his thoughts in time.

 _Don't even think_ _about_ him _…_

Emitting a furious sigh, and trying his best to ignore the slight burning sensation in his cheeks, he took a large gulp of his lime soda. Jin was aware that he was drawing more attention from the aforementioned punters. Granted, he was dressed in civilian clothing, but he, a young man of Asian descent who sat alone amongst the other patrons with a non-alcoholic beverage in his hands, hardly looked inconspicuous.

 _Ignore 'em_ , a voice intoned in his mind. _Just drink up and get the hell outta here, Jin._ _You shouldn't have come here in the first place._ _Who, or what, did you expect to find? Nothing._

 _Certainly not_ him _– damn it, Jin,_ _ **stop it!**_

The Shaolin monk wanted to pull on his ponytail out of frustration. Instead, he took another gulp of his soda, which somewhat quelled his nerves, although he gave himself a fright when he slammed his glass down on the counter in a violent manner. The bar-flies gave him an odd look; even the bartender glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes with suspicion. Luckily for Jin, however, they continued to go on drinking and serving customers, respectively.

 _You nearly blew it,_ the voice said-cum-lectured sternly. _Just be grateful_ _that no one_ _'s gonna cause you any trouble._

If the Elder Gods had happened to hear that, they probably would have laughed themselves silly at the trouble that was about to come in about five seconds.

Jin barely registered the door opening, keeping his eyes on his glass. It was only when he heard the ominous _cling-cling!_ of spurs sliding over the wooden floor and the loud, collective gasp from the patrons that he looked up …

… and saw _him_.

_Oh, hell no …_

Dark-blue eyes appraised the bar and its inhabitants under a wide-brimmed hat. Its owner's hands rested on his hips – or more accurately, atop two dirty-gold revolvers in holsters strapped to his thighs. Sandy-brown hair framed a tanned face, which beheld what could best be described as an unimpressed expression, although it was hard to tell because of the mask covering the lower-half of his countenance.

"Hardly the warm welcome I expected from my own kindred," the stranger drawled in a low baritone.

Jin wanted to slap himself.

_Of all the drinking joints in all of Earthrealm, **Erron Black** walks into mine!_

No one uttered a word; they were simply too frightened at the appearance of the gun-slinging man who could have been a character from any Wild West movie. They gulped when he unholstered one of his revolvers and aimed it straight at them.

"If you're not even gonna dignify me with a response, then I suggest you beat it," he said in a low, menacing tone, "before I waste my time shooting holes in your worthless heads with my bullets."

Jin watched as Erron then pointed the gun at the shaking bartender. "You're staying right here, barkeep. I've come a damn long way for a drink and some intelligent company, but just the drink will do fine. You hear me?"

"I – I –" the bartender stuttered, beginning to sweat.

"I said, _you hear me?_ " Erron repeated, cocking the gun and aiming the barrel at the other man's forehead.

"Y-y-yes s-suh-sir," the bartender managed, feeling as if his knees were about to give way, he was so scared.

"Good," the former Earthrealmer murmured before turning his attention – and his revolver – back to the other patrons. "What are you waiting for, a free round? Get out of my sight. _Now_."

They did not need to be told twice. This man was not fooling around – they could see that he meant business. Everyone scuttled over each other to reach the door and escape, lest the man pumped bullets into their retreating backs.

Jin was among the last of the crowd who was fighting their way out. The Shaolin in him made him want to remain behind and fight the Outworld cowboy: indeed, he wanted to reach into his pocket for his chakram – his only weapon – and engage the other man in Kombat. But the rest of him wanted to be far away from Erron Black as much as possible.

_I can't let him see me._

Unfortunately, Jin had been seated on the far end of the counter, practically on the other side of the room, hence why he was among the last punters trying to hot-foot it. The people pressed against him as they ran, slowing him down in his efforts to leave. He pushed back, but not too forcefully that would cause them to fall.

After all, the open door was in sight …

_I'm nearly out!_

"Argh!"

… but he did not make it.

Instead, Kung Jin found himself lying face-down after tripping over an extended, booted leg.

Dazed ever-so-slightly, the Shaolin monk hardly had time to get his bearings when a hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and roughly turned him over onto his back, the back of his head bouncing hard against the wooden surface. Trying to bite back a groan as a small wave of pain erupted throughout his skull, Jin looked up, his eyes fluttering.

To his horror, dark-blue eyes stared down into own orbs.

"Well, well, Mr Kung," Erron Black rumbled, and Jin could swear that the gun-slinger was _smiling_ behind that mask. "This _is_ a remarkable coincidence. I almost didn't recognise you – I would've shot you if I was wrong, and would've shot you _twice_ already if I was right. Fortunately for you, kid, I could do with some company."

And then, with surprising gentleness, Erron wrapped his powerful arms – tanned from his years traipsing around under the Outworld sun – around Jin's waist, lifting the groggy Shaolin monk up onto his feet.

"Let … go …" the younger man breathed, trying to force his way out of the cowboy's hold, albeit weakly.

Erron did not seem to be listening, but his grip loosened somewhat as he turned back to look at the bartender, who was sweating profusely now.

"Give me a Half and Half," he drawled slowly. "Easy on the pale, and strong on the dark."

He turned back to Jin, lifting the younger man's chin with his trigger-happy fingers. "What about you, kid? Having the same? Or would you prefer something else …?"

The last sentence was a hot whisper against his skin, and it made Jin feel faint at the knees. His heart thudded away at a fast pace in his chest as his eyes met that of Erron's once again.

"Well?" the former Earthrealmer muttered.

For all the answers that he could have given him, Jin could have kicked himself after finally answering:

"I don't drink alcohol."

Erron Black lifted an amused eyebrow.

"Odd, considering that I found you here."

"I don't drink _at all_ , certainly not with the likes of _you_ ," Jin said firmly now, breaking free of Erron's hold. Taking a step backwards, he reached into his pocket, feeling around for his chakram.

But his confidence fled as soon as it had come when he found that his pocket was empty.

A sliver of raw fear made itself known when Jin saw Erron taking a step forward as he raised his right hand, holding his chakram between his fingers.

"I suppose I will have to convert you," the gun-slinger murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Jin is in a bit of a pickle, isn't he? X3 Don't worry, the next chapter will reveal all.
> 
> I live for this pairing, so I just had to write this (even though I have other stories to update). But I hope you like the story so far - we'll see when the next chapter is up.
> 
> *~AI07~* :)


	2. What Could You Do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! Hope you enjoy! :)

"Back off, Black," Kung Jin warned, assuming a fighting stance as Erron Black drew nearer and nearer, yet the Shaolin monk was dismayed to find that a sliver of anxiety had accidentally crept into his tone.

To his even _bigger_ dismay, the gun-slinger seemed to sense this. Narrowing his dark-blue eyes, Erron stopped in his tracks and remarked lowly, "Think I'm gonna hurt you, kid? I wouldn't think of it."

"Yeah, threatening to shoot me and disarming me sure as hell aren't indicators of trying to _kill_ me, let alone trying to hurt me," Jin barked.

"Touchy, aren't you?" Erron murmured, raising an eyebrow. "You'll be wanting a stiff drink to calm your nerves."

"What _I_ want is for you to give me back my chakram and leave me alone, you trigger-happy raccoon!"

"Hmph, like I'll honestly do that after hearing you sass me," retorted the former Earthrealmer, frowning behind his mask.

Then, to Jin's consternation, Erron took the chakram and hooked it onto the back of his belt, where it dangled next to his numerous sand-grenades. Giving it a tug to make sure it was hooked on properly, he looked back up at the agitated, younger man. "Don't give me that look, Junior – it's not going anywhere."

He paused. "Neither are _you_."

"What do you want from me, Black?" Jin growled; his animosity for the other man was obvious.

Erron shrugged. "Like I said, I could do with some company. Drinking isn't something that should be done alone, 'less you got some serious problems."

His eyes quickly darted up and down the Shaolin monk's body. "Is that why _you're_ here, kid?"

Jin's face flushed a vivid rose-red colour ( _why, damn it,_ _ **why**_ _?!_ ), but he replied heatedly, "How many times do I have to tell your deaf ass that I don't drink _bloody_ alcohol? I'm Shaolin, and the Shaolin don't drink."

"Apparently the Shaolin don't refrain from swearing," the gun-slinger tutted, "unless that's the liquor talking."

"No way, cowboy, it's _me_ you're hearing," Jin returned, exasperated with the other man's calm demeanour and nonchalant remarks.

"I can believe it." Erron's eyes travelled once again up and down the length of Jin's body, albeit slowly this time round, and the younger man felt an uncomfortable burning sensation in his chest, enveloping his heart in a painful, vice-like grip.

_What the hell is he looking at me for?_

Before he could call him out on his wandering gaze, he watched as the cowboy suddenly turned around to face the bartender, who was preparing his order with shaky hands, and said, "Barkeep, you're taking a _long_ time with my drink."

"N-no, no, sir," stammered the bartender, nearly spilling the glass's contents. "I-i-it's nuh-nearly finished."

"Sure about that?" A flash of gold, and once more the barrel of a revolver was aimed at the other man's forehead.

"Y-y-yes, sir," the bartender's voice was a whimper. "O-one m-muh-more m-minute."

"A _minute_?"

The tip of the barrel was cold to the touch, even against the hot and sweaty brow of the barkeeper, who nearly dropped the alcoholic preparation altogether as Erron leaned over the counter to press the weapon against him, his fingers ready to pull the trigger. Gulping and praying inwardly to whatever Higher Power who was listening to him at that moment in time, the bartender squeaked:

"H-h- _half_ a minute, sir! Th-that's wh-what I meant t-to say! I-it'll be r-ready in half a-a-a minute!"

For a whole five seconds, the gun-slinger stared in silence at the bartender, who was ready to be buried into his grave. Then, without a word, Erron lowered his gun, holstered it and murmured:

"Make it twenty seconds, and I'll consider giving you a tip."

Turning his back on the frenzied bartender, the former Earthrealmer fixed his attention on Jin, with yet another unimpressed expression gracing his features. "Is the service always lousy here in Earthrealm, Junior?"

"Geez, and you wonder why I wanna get out of here," Jin muttered in response, fixing the cowboy with a steely look. "You shouldn't have threatened him like that, Black. He hasn't done anything wrong to you."

Errron did not bat an eyelid.

"If you're so torn up about it, you should've stopped me, kid," he drawled.

"Stop you? I –"

"You're Shaolin, you said so yourself," Erron cut in, striding forward, forcing the younger man to back away a few steps again. "You looked like you could have gone a few rounds with me earlier – hell, even without your little toy, you could have taken me on. What made you change your mind?"

"I could have busted your –"

"But you _didn't_ ," Erron emphasised, not breaking his stride. "So why not?"

So close was he getting to Jin, that the Shaolin monk could make out the little details that made up his appearance: the faded red poncho with its easy-to-miss needlework where there had been tears; the golden bullets that made up the bandolier encircling his hat, all polished to perfection; the tally-mark-shaped scars that adorned his muscular arms, featuring prominently on the left arm, especially …

_How did those get there?_

"A story like that can only be told over a couple of beers."

Jin was startled at the sound of Erron's voice interrupting his thoughts, even more so when he looked up from scars and found the perpetrator's dark-blue eyes staring right into his face. His cheeks immediately attained a rosy hue ( _seriously, Jin, what is your problem?!_ ).

"I'm not interested, Black," he lied, daring himself to stare straight back. "Besides, you'll never be able to get me to taste a single drop of alcohol, no matter how hard you try and convert me."

Erron cocked his head to the side.

"Is that a challenge?"

Jin could not help but smirk.

"If it's synonymous with "Erron Black making an epic-fail of himself _again_ ", then yeah, I guess you could call it that," he tartly replied.

The former Earthrealmer regarded the Shaolin monk with narrow eyes. Those orbs, camouflaged by that raccoon get-up, was a deep, dark-blue colour that reminded Jin of an ocean before the storm hit, more azure than an uncut lapiz-lazuli …

 _Jin,_ the voice in his head screamed at him, _it's bad enough that you were blushing in front of the guy for no apparent reason –_ now _you're writing poetry about him and his skunk-panda-eyeballs? You're friggin' worse than Takeda._

"S-sir?"

Erron tore his blue gaze away from Jin to face the bartender again, who stood behind the counter with an uneasy expression.

"Finished, barkeep?" the gun-slinger asked.

The bartender nodded quickly. Laying down a coaster on the counter, he put a tall glass of alcohol over it. The top half of the beverage was stout, dark-brown bordering on burgundy in colour with a layer of foam on the surface; the bottom half was pale ale, a concentration of angry amber and citrine colours.

Again, Erron sauntered over to the bar-counter, leaning down to inspect the beverage from all angles.

_Speaking of nice angles … wait, what? WHAT?_

Finally, standing up straight and looking at the bartender, Erron nodded.

"Good," he said. "Now come closer, so I can give you a tip."

He reached into his trouser pocket, apparently digging around for money. Biting his lips, the shaky bartender drew nearer, watching as this cowboy character withdrew his hand from his pocket and –

_Ka-POW!_

The bartender disappeared behind the counter, slumping to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Jin was gaping at Erron, who unclenched his fist and rubbed his knuckles – no money after all. "You punched him."

"Very perceptive, kid," replied Erron airily.

"You could have _killed_ him!"

"Is that an observation, or a request that came too late?" the former Earthrealmer inquired, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Jin growled. "You know damn well what I meant, Black."

Erron merely shrugged his shoulders. "Can't please everybody, I suppose."

"Now hold on just a minute –!"

"Relax, Junior," Erron purred, removing his hat and placing it on the counter. Smoothing his soft-looking, brown-blonde locks, he continued, "I know what you meant. Just be grateful that I didn't shoot him."

He chuckled as he touched the lips of the glass with an index finger. "Would have been hilarious to have seen the look on your face if I _did_."

Jin scowled at him. "Damn you."

Erron ignored the jibe. Instead, his eyes fell upon the jukebox sitting near the door, and then, without looking at the Shaolin monk, he asked:

"Got any spare change on you?"

Jin almost snorted upon hearing the request.

"You work for Kotal Kahn. I thought you made a million bucks maintaining the law in Outworld. Or did you use up all your coins to kill people?"

 _Did you even_ bring _money at all?_ he asked himself, his thoughts lingering back to the out-cold bartender.

Erron rolled his eyes.

"I highly doubt that the jukebox will take any Outworld currency," he replied.

For some odd reason or another, it was only at _this_ point of this bizarre meeting that Kung Jin realised what was happening: he, a non-alcoholic Shaolin monk, was alone with, and having an equally-bizarre conversation with, Erron "Money first, shoot second" Black in the middle of an empty bar, whose proprietor was pretty much down for the count.

 _And now_ Black _wants to listen to some music?_

_Is this what it feels like to be drunk? Or high? Or both?_

_This is the kind of stuff that should happen to Cassie, not_ me _._

_Cha-ching!_

The sound of the cash register opening brought Jin back to reality. His mouth contorted into a frown as he watched Erron pull out some silver coins, leaving one out and pocketing the rest.

"Didn't take you for a thief, cowboy," he commented.

"Takes one to know one, kid," came the retort.

Jin very nearly wanted to cuss the older man out for that statement – although he had gotten over his thieving past, he was not proud of it – but he was stopped short when Erron reached up behind his head and, with dexterity that had been acquired from years of twirling those guns, unclasped his mask and removed it …

_By the Elder Gods …_

… revealing the lower half of Erron Black's face.

 _ **That's**_ _the face of the man who's been bantering with me for the last five minutes?!_

"Why, Junior, you look as if you've never seen another man's mouth before," were the words that came rolling out of the former Earthrealmer's exposed lips, which were pulled into an amused smile. Gently massaging his smooth, sturdy jaw-line and running his fingers lightly over his angular cheekbones, he added in his clear baritone, "Close _your_ mouth, boy, before you swallow a fly."

Without a second thought, Jin did as he was told, too stunned by the appearance of Erron's entire countenance.

_He looks … human._

Indeed, without the mask, Erron did look less like a gung-ho cowboy ninja and more like the Earthrealmer that he used to be many years before he followed the money-trail. Surprisingly, he looked younger than the Shaolin monk had expected: he could have fallen anywhere between mid-20s and the early-30s.

_Not too far away from my age …_

Picking up his drink and taking a large sip, Erron hummed with pleasure as he savoured the beverage's aromatic flavour, a satisfied smile gracing his features. Jin had found out in his research that Outworld was not exactly famed for its liquor; even the infamous Bo 'Rai Cho visited Earthrealm to sample its spirits rather than drink any of what Outworld had to offer.

_I'll bet that's why Black came out this way for one drink._

"You're awfully quiet, kid," the gun-slinger murmured, peering over his glass at the younger man. "A penny for your thoughts?"

He patted his pocket, which _clang-clanged!_ "I've got plenty."

Jin nearly slapped himself for being caught staring ( _what is there to stare at anyway, Jin, you fool?_ ). Instead, trying his damndest to ignore the familiar constriction that erupted in his chest with full-force, he huffed, "Why don't you take your _stolen_ pennies and shove it up your –"

"Guess I'll just use the penny on the jukebox," Erron cut him off, taking another sip before taking the coin that he had left out and walking over to the jukebox.

A Wurlitzer model, and the gaudier descendant of the phonograph that Erron would have seen in the old days, it was like the one that inhabited bars and ice-cream parlours during the 1950s. In this particular joint, it was only ever used during the times when people got really intoxicated ( _Jacqui nearly broke the thing, trying to get it to work_ ).

Erron Black was not drunk, but so strange was his actions, Jin thought, that he might as well _be_ drunk.

_I can imagine the scene: "Hey, Jin, where'd you go last night?" "Nowhere special, Cass. Went to that bar you like, met Erron Black – he had a drink, we chatted, played some tunes on the jukebox, nothing major."_

Unbeknownst to Jin, there was more to than just "playing some tunes" that was to come.

"Let's see …" muttered Erron, reading the labels on the jukebox's buttons. Over the years, patrons of the bar had vandalised the various letter and number combinations with the names of the songs and artists that the apparatus could play. The cowboy's eyes drifted over each title, until …

"Aha," he murmured. "Gotcha."

He inserted the coin into the coin-slot and pressed the button that would play his song.

The machine whirred into action. It searched for the chosen record, found it and placed it into the player. The needle hit the vinyl, and then –

The short pull of guitar-strings, followed by a steady bass beat and the blue rock-infused rhythm of a bass and snare drum combination, reverberated throughout the bar.

Tapping his booted foot to the music, Erron swivelled around, his eyes falling on a bemused-looking Jin.

"Care to dance, Junior?"

Now to say that Jin was shocked at hearing the request was truly a big, big, _BIG_ understatement.

 _He …_ Black _… did not … just … ask_ me _… to dance …_

"You're kidding me," he managed to answer, gob-smacked.

"I kid you not," Erron retorted, taking his third sip for the evening before walking towards the Shaolin monk. "Dance with me."

"With _you_?" repeated the younger man, wondering if he was really hearing all of this.

The burning constriction in his chest was strong now …

"Yeah, with me," the gun-slinger affirmed, smirking a little. "If you don't wanna drink with me, then you're gonna dance with me."

Before Jin could give the older man a piece of his mind, those tanned, tally-marked arms reached out and encircled his waist once more. Jin had barely time to yelp when he felt himself pulled forward and pressed up against the chest of the cowboy.

Getting his bearings, he looked up at Erron with a flaming-red face. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you jerk?!"

"Leading," answered Erron, his tone so low that the hairs on the back of Jin's neck stood up.

_What is he doing to me …?_

"Relax your body, Junior," those lips whispered into his ear, like a hot, _sultry_ wind in the desert. "Put your arms around my neck. Makes it easier for you to move."

To Jin's alarm, he obeyed.

Ever so carefully, he placed his arms around Erron's neck, the ends of his hair brushing lightly against his wrists. The heat that emanated from the older man's muscular frame was enough to make him feel faint, but the mere fact that their skin was _touching_ …

… well, let's just say that it was a good thing that Erron was supporting him, otherwise Jin would have been on the floor, dead to the world.

Satisfied with the movement, the former Earthrealmer tightened his hold, his hands resting on the base of the Shaolin monk's back.

"That's it," he murmured before he began to sway their bodies together as the first, crooning verse was sung:

 _Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell_  
_Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high_  
_Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder_  
_The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky_

"Since when do you know how to dance, cowboy?" Jin mumbled, looking everywhere but at Erron.

It was difficult, given that their hips were practically touching as they moved from side to side.

"I've lived a long time to learn how, kid," Erron replied casually, leading them backwards.

"If my friends could see me now," Jin muttered under his breath. "Dancing with a friggin' mercenary …"

"Lucky you," the reply was a purr as Erron grabbed his glass and drank.

_The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything  
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for _

_Black velvet and that little boy's smile_  
_Black velvet with that slow southern style_  
_A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees_  
_Black velvet, if you please …_

The slow bass and guitar were intoxicating to Jin's ears, and the drum's intense volume matched that of his heartbeat; as his eyes made contact with Erron's, it nearly burst.

"You needn't look so frightened, kid," the former Earthrealmer drawled, pressing his thumbs into Jin's back.

It was as if electricity shot through his body. The younger man moaned ( _by the Elder gods, I can't believe this is happening to_ _ **me**_ _!_ ), and he buried his face into Erron's chest; he could hear the other man's heartbeat, steady and low like the bass.

 _Up in Memphis, the music's like a heatwave  
White lightning, bound to drive you wild  
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl_  
" _Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle_

"C'mon, kid, up and at 'em," Jin heard the gun-slinger say before those fingers – chilled from the drinking glass – cupped his chin and lifted it up so that they were looking at each other. "Dancing isn't a lonely sport, either."

He pushed their hips together, eliciting yet another moan from the Shaolin monk.

Trying to regain his breath, Jin looked up at Erron with burning eyes and blazing cheeks.

"You're doing this on purpose," he hissed.

"But you can't get enough," Erron simply stated, picking up his glass again.

_The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true  
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for_

_Black velvet and that little boy's smile_  
_Black velvet with that slow southern style_  
_A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees_  
_Black velvet, if you please …_

His lips were coated in an amber colour, and out of them he spoke over the guitar riff:

"You could have ran away, Junior. You could have unhooked your weapon right now and we could have gotten down to fight. You could have saved that pathetic barman a whole lot of misery. You could have stayed away from this place, and we would never have met tonight.

"And yet, here you are … what could you do now?" he finished, his dark-blue eyes searching Jin's face for an answer …

 _Every word of every song that he sang was for you_  
_In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon …_  
_What could you do?_

… and for the life of him, Kung Jin did not know what to say.

But even if he wanted to say something, Erron never gave him a chance.

Tilting his head, Erron Black pressed his lips against Jin's.

It was truly as if Raiden had sent down a bolt of lightning to strike him.

_He's kissing me? Sweet mother of the Elder Gods, Black's KISSING me?!_

And despite a part of him crying out at him to break the kiss and get away from the man, Jin gave into the desire that had been cocooning in and constricting his heart …

The very same desire he tried to fight for the last few weeks since he first encountered Erron Black …

The same desire that drew him here to the "stupid-ass dump" in the first place – and kept him there to the point that he wanted to fall to his knees …

… and kissed the other man back.

 _Black velvet and that little boy's smile_  
_Black velvet with that slow southern style_  
_A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees_  
_Black velvet, if you please!_

For a man who had attained a hardened exterior over the years, Erron's lips were soft to the touch.

They were also sweet as Jin tasted the aromatic amber liquid. The beer tasted vaguely of hops and malt, but for the Shaolin at that moment, nothing could have tasted any better nor sweeter.

 _Black velvet and that little boy's smile_  
_Black velvet with that slow southern style_  
_A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees_  
_Black velvet …_

_If you please …_

There were no caresses, no sliding of the tongues, no hip-pushing as Erron and Jin kissed – no. All it was – all it would be – was just a prolonged kiss on the lips.

It was not long before Erron withdrew as the song reached its climax, the music surrounding them once more. His mouth curved into a smile as Jin's face practically shone.

"Enjoy that, kid?" he asked.

Jin nodded. "Didn't take you for a good kisser, either, raccoon-face."

Erron rolled his eyes, but he slowly ran his hands up and down the length of Jin's back as he drawled, "You do realise that I won, right?"

"Won what?" the Shaolin monk asked, trying his best to contain himself, those touches were _killing_ him …

"The challenge," replied Erron airily. "I made you taste alcohol."

Jin raised a bemused eyebrow. "No, you didn't."

"I _did_ , just now."

"But you _didn't_ , I –"

Jin stopped in his tracks when the penny dropped on him.

"When you kissed me …" he breathed, remembering the beer that had tainted Erron's lips. As he spoke, the taste of stout mixed with pale ale lingered in his mouth.

The gun-slinger nodded.

"I win."

And then the jukebox came to a stop, and so did the spell.

"You jerk!" cried Jin, breaking away from Erron. "You tricked me! Ooh, I could _kill_ you!"

"Too late for that, kid," replied the cowboy nonchalantly as he finished up the last of his drink. "Besides, you enjoyed the kiss, and I'm sure that you liked the drink, too, now that you've gotten a taste of it."

He put down the empty glass, grabbed his mask and quickly clasped it back onto his face. He picked up his hat and, placing it on his head, turned to look at a fuming Jin. Once more, his eyes bore the emotions that his concealed mouth could not convey; they were sparkling with amusement.

"Well, Junior, it's been a pleasure," he murmured. "Next time we're going to have a drink proper."

"Next time, I'll knock your head proper," the younger man muttered.

Erron chuckled. He took hold of Jin's hand, and, unhooking it from his belt, placed his chakram into it.

"See? Told you it wasn't going anywhere."

"Better get out of my sight before I shove it down your throat," Jin grumbled, his other hand tracing the scars on Erron's left arm. "I'll add to those tally-marks of yours."

"Next time," the former Earthrealmer whispered before squeezing Jin's fingers, tipping his hat, turning on his heels and –

"Hey Black, when's next time?"

"Hmm?"

Erron stopped and turned around, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Jin.

"When's next time?" the young Shaolin monk asked again.

To his eyes, he could swear that a smile lay behind Erron Black's mask.

"Soon, Jin," he answered before walking out the door.

Leaving Kung Jin to wonder how the heck he was going to explain any of this to General Blade and the guys.

* * *

It was a Friday night, and Johnny Cage decided to take the team out for drinks at the bar.

Kung Jin sat next to him and Cassie, whilst Jacqui and Takeda sat in the opposite seats. They were all laughing and enjoying their drinks, but Takeda could not help but notice that Jin was avoiding the gaze of the bartender with the bandage on his face, who was doing the same and not making eye-contact with him.

"Something the matter, Jin?" his friend asked. "You kinda look freaked out by the barman."

"Probably thinks that the barman will serve him alcohol or something," joked Cassie.

"Don't worry, Jin-baby, we'll protect you!" said Johnny, winking at him.

Everyone laughed; Jin joined in, too, albeit uneasily as he sipped his soda.

He did not have the heart to tell them about what happened a few days ago in that joint.

Nor did he have the heart to tell them why he insisted on paying the bartender a little extra money, money which matched the cost of a Half and Half unaccounted for in his cash journals.

And nor did Kung Jin have the heart to tell them that somebody had left him a couple of Earthrealm pennies outside his room, along with the name of a nondescript bar and a date on a note.

_What could you do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is done! Of course, I will post something like this on Sunday. And on Mother's Day. -_-;;
> 
> Thanks for reading this story, my ducklings! I had so much fun writing it - I was happy at the great response to the first part, so I just had to write a long chapter as a big ol' thank-you. :) There will be more KJ/EB fanfics (non-smutty, 'cause I don't do smut), and I hope to see more of this ship from other writers.
> 
> *~AI07~* :)


End file.
